Poetry 'n Prose

No 86

Waiting for the bus out of Dewsbury
joining the queue
I glimpsed a young girl
barely 18 as she casually walks
out into the road…
the bus obliged her
the violent death
she’d been waiting for
she’d been dying for.

Within seconds struggling
for air; I look for someone
give me the next breath
but passer-by pedestrians, staring
from the sidelines knew my resusitation
attempt was futile, in vain
as the blood covered
my hands, my shirt.

Seeing her leave carried
into the back
of the ambulance,
I was senseless, numbed out
and exhausted ’till later making my way home
it was I not able to move
there was no goodbye
there was no knowing her name
there was only her face, her pain
there was only no more.

Years later
another bus, in another place
I saw your face again
reflected in the window
just a flash of light
permeating my sight
the image of a young girl returned
years later
another bus, in another place
I touched the glass
and cried.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

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